


You're Safe Now

by CaptainDashingRapscallion



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Charles Being Concerned, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, M/M, Wanda and Erik only mentioned in Chapter One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:52:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDashingRapscallion/pseuds/CaptainDashingRapscallion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Escape had been merely a hope for Pietro. Now it was here he was trying to contain that emotion rising. And then he sees him and knows he is safe now. X-Men: Origins canon divergence with references to X-Men: Days of Future Past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Charles has been de-aged from Patrick Stewart to nearer James McAvoy xmdofp age, just because I was thinking of the relationship between Pietro and Charles at that sort of age. Also there's not that much of a year gap between xmdofp and x: origins. Based on the events of X-Men: Origins end scene where Charles comes to rescue the children but canon divergent.

When the boy at the front of the group with blood-stained bandages over his eyes had begun to call out directions confidently like he knew where they needed to go, the battered speedster had felt the first inklings in a long time of hope that someone was helping. And not just anyone, but one of the two men he would give anything to see at this moment in time. As it was he kept the bubble of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him inside and hidden, it wouldn't do to get distracted by maybes and end up back in cuffs in a cell. His mind would not stand another stint so soon.

  
Imprisonment had been torturous for Pietro, the guards cuffing him in place in his cell so he was forced to endure every single second of time that passed. Even when he tried to move unyielding metal bit into his wrists relentlessly, followed by a shock and spasms of pain that lingered for hours. Everything about his incarceration had been designed to break his will, but he had not submitted; had resolved not to when his kidnapping off the streets of the town he had called home had become apparent. He'd stood his ground in agony long enough for Wanda to escape to a safer location, despite the searing pain in his leg and the subsequent collision with the floor when one of the men sent to get the twins had shot a bullet through his leg to stop him running.

  
Reeling himself back from the hell that had been his life over the past few years, Pietro squinted as sunlight started filtering through the tunnel. Actual sunlight _._ Not UV lights over the operating table as he lay out on a slab to be poked, prodded and injected with chemicals that made him shudder in flaring pain and vomit for days as his body tried to expel the damage, and not pale excuses of the real thing squinting through the barred cell that held him in eternal misery, but _actual, warm sunlight_. He made himself hang back from rushing forward and taking that heat on his face all for himself, instead ushering the younger ones up the stairs, leaving the blindfolded boy and Emma (who was one of the few he'd spoken to during imprisonment as their cells had been fairly close together) to lead the way. Only when the last shuddering boy had climbed up the stairs did Pietro follow the crowd; coming to stand at the back of the group and closing his eyes for a moment letting the sunlight spilled over his face. He felt it warm his skin beyond the bone deep cold that had settled over the dark months previously, before he turned his attention to where the other kids were staring.

  
The bubble of hope rose into something much grander and harder to ignore as opposite him he saw Charles Xavier, standing still as he faced them with a welcoming smile and wide open arms. His brown hair no longer hung ridiculously down to just above his shoulder, but instead was cropped back into a shorter style that curled round behind his ears, perhaps to hide the signs of thinning, and he stood tall, with a confidence that looked well earned. As Pietro stared on he realised that Charles seemed to be having a telepathic conversation with those at the front of the group, but soon enough he heard the words he longed to hear.

  
"You're safe now."

  
It was followed by an instruction for everyone to come along because they had to go, but Pietro barely heard it with the emotions choking his throat. He blinked them away and shook his head, jogging to catch up with the others. One by one they all filtered onto Charles' plane, quicky scrambling for the back, huddling together for protection. Pietro lingered until he could climb up the stairs alone and as he did, he came face to face with Charles, who simply touched two fingers to his wrist and tilted his head towards the cockpit, now seeing him as who he was instead of an indistinguishable face in a group of lost souls. Nodding, Pietro followed, sliding the door closed behind them and sinking against it, leaving Charles to set up the flight plan and get them in the air, waiting for the autopilot to kick in before he found his voice.

  
"You came."

  
He hated how feeble he sounded; how broken and lost and utterly faithless. Showing the pain and torture he'd been through was not something he wanted to do, but Charles had a way of drawing it all to the surface. To make stubborn Lehnsherrs feel that it was okay to be in pain.

  
"I'd have been there sooner if I had been able to get a lock on the facility. If I had known you were in there," Charles answered calmly, gesturing to the co-pilot seat. Pietro hobbled over and sank into it, his leg now aching with the residual effects of the poorly treated bullet wound and subsequent damage done to him after to ensure he would not be troublesome. He glanced up to see Charles frowning and knew the telepath had noticed.

  
"You weren't to know. I left you and Father to find Wanda and asked you to give me time to come to terms with the whole family thing. You stuck to your word," the speedster sighed, not wanting Charles to shoulder guilt after this. After busting Magneto out of prison and the subsequent adventures that had entailed, files had been unearthed that had led to his discovery that Magneto was not just a stranger to him but his father. He'd also learnt of the odd relationship between Charles and Erik, that was both lovers and enemies, and had subsequently learnt that the genetics professor was his step-father - if he wanted. Charles had stressed to him at the time that there was no obligations on him to accept that; after all two men in a relationship was hard enough for the time period. Pietro had swallowed the information and gone his separate ways from them; seeking out his twin sister to tell her the news and to take time to comprehend it himself. He'd found Wanda, but they'd only been together three weeks when the mutant hunters had arrived and he'd lost his freedom.

  
"I would like to think that I might have attempted to keep an eye on you, despite that. But after Raven..." Charles murmured, trailing off before the memory could linger on darker times where his gift was feared, and Pietro leant forward, resting a hand on Charles' knee.

  
"I needed time to come to terms with everything. You respected that wish. And besides you've been busy setting up the school. You can't be everywhere at once," he insisted, knowing that his step-father was the kind of man who saved hundreds but still got upset over the one he didn't quite manage to save. "At least you came, not Father. I have a feeling things would be a lot less simple if he had."

  
That pried a chuckle from the telepath as he brought his hands to rest over Pietro's own, squeezing the speedster's hand gently. For a moment the two men just sat in silence, joined only by their hands as the X-Jet flew them back to safer ground.

  
"They didn't break me in there, you know? They tried... believe me, they did. But I knew one of you two would show up. I'm not one for false hope, but I knew you'd detect this group of mutants eventually. It was only a matter of time." Pietro explained quietly, turning his head to look out the window, marvelling in the endless blue stretched in front of him. "Either you looking for lost souls for your school, or him looking for another facility to raid. I suppose when you have a father leading each side of the mutant movement it allows for more faith than that of my fellow inmates."

  
Charles was silent as he spoke, and when Pietro turned his gaze back he saw that the telepath was staring at him with an unreadable expression. The speedster was simply relieved it wasn't pity.

  
"You are a strong man, Pietro. Definitely your father's son," Charles eventually said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. At first Pietro was confused as to why, but then he flicked his mind back over his last few words, and realised why Charles was choked up. He'd referred to him as one of his fathers indirectly. The telepath had seen his acceptance without him needing to show it. "To have come out from where you've been unbroken by their work is more than most will have managed. You can rest at the mansion, where you'll be safe, and I'll contact Erik and let him know you've been found."

  
"Don't you think that's a bad idea?" Pietro interrupted, because honestly he couldn't see on what universe telling Magneto he'd been imprisoned and experimented on was a good idea at all.

  
"On the contrary, I rather think Erik would rather hear it from us, than learn of it later down the line from someone who makes a comment about the speedster in the next cell over. He may not react well, but at least if he's given the chance to assess your wellbeing, to see you standing on two legs and safe, then he may save his crusade on humanity for another day and spend his time ensuring you are okay instead." Charles rationed, though Pietro could tell the telepath doubted whether even Erik's love for his son would be enough to quell the rage.

  
"I see your point. It's a tad manipulative, but I can see why we'd play it that way. He could be of use anyway. When they kidnapped me they shot me in the leg and the surgeon who fixed me up was useless at best. There's still some small fragments or something in there. Something sharp and metal that makes it difficult to walk. He could pull it out, probably." Pietro sighed, drawing his hand back now to lean in the chair. "And no I'm not elaborating further than that. Maybe later, when I'm settled. But for now I just want to revel in the fact I'm out of that hell."

  
Charles chuckled sadly at the speedster's question, amused that his enquiries as to how much medical attention Pietro might need had been predicted, but upset he needed to ask.

  
"Okay we'll save that for when your father comes. He won't be as easily deterred as I am. For now rest. I'm going to check on the other children," he replied, clambering to his feet with a groan. Pietro watched as the Professor's hand went to his back, fingers resting over an old wound before he straightened with a contained grimace.

  
"I see you're still choosing walking over your mutation," he started and at the enquiring look that was sent his way. "The argument on the plane between you two wasn't kept private for long."

  
"Ah," Charles paused, then shook his head with a sigh. "Not really. Hank altered the treatment and it no longer affects my mutation to a significant degree, after all he's had ample time to work out some of the kinks. However its less effective for longer periods of time. Today is a good day and I can walk unaided, but most days I rely on a cane that Erik fashioned for me or use the chair. It's unpredictable and difficult but there are worse things happening in the world so I cannot complain."

  
Pietro did not need to ask to know that Charles was referring to the torture he and the others had endured. He settled back in the chair and let his eyes close, the sunlight filtering in the front windows lulling him into a sense of serenity. He heard Charles walk out to the others, leaving him alone with the faint sounds of the autopilot running its course, and he let out a woosh of air as the fear that had clutched at his chest in a striking hold finally dissipated and left him room to breathe.

  
When Charles came back he found the speedster drifting somewhere between sleeping and awake, exhausted physically and emotionally. He brushed the hair off Pietro's face and drew a blanket from a hatch near the door, draping it over the boy he thought of as a son, choosing to let him rest for now. Later the nightmares, the pain, and the inevitable conversation with Erik would come. But for now he'd let Pietro bask in the realisation of freedom and take him to the mansion where he could heal in comfort and safety. And then once he was settled they could call Erik, reunite father and son, before turning their attention to finding Wanda with Cerebro and bring the family together safely in a place they might finally call home. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well I finally got around to finishing this chapter. I won't apologise for the wait, it was always going to take time as I had University, starting my job and an incredible amount of writer's block. But here it is, so enjoy!

Vice like grip around his arms held him fast, unable to move as the seconds dragged on and on and the aftermath of the serum he'd been injected with filled his vision with all kinds of hallucinations. His sister on her knees, wounded, bleeding, dying. His mother, beaten and hurt, unable to be saved. Remy broken and battered from his escape attempt, eyes vacant, body twisted in unnatural positions. He shook his head, trying to dispel the visions - forcing the bile back down his throat - blinking away tears - deep breaths - remembering why he was here, why he was fighting.

Another wave of nausea; his fellow inmates broken and curled in on themselves, clutching their heads as blood spilled down their faces and limbs hung awkwardly. Too much pain, too much suffering - stop - stop - stop.

He wrenched his arms against the restraints, tugging them to his face to cover his eyes, to stop the sights.

A crackling. A warning. A shock.

His body contorted unnaturally with the pain - jerking - jumping - as the agony raced through him alighting every nerve in his body with the punishment for movement. His mouth hung open, eyes tight shut, everything protesting against the torture -panting - whimpering.

And then he screamed.

\---

When the windows started rattling in their metal frames and the silverware began to tremble in the drawers, Charles knew that Erik had received word of where his son had been found and had arrived at the Xavier Insitute. He rubbed his temples, finishing his cup of tea with a quick gulp before retreating away to his study where Erik would know to find him. His walk was not as fast as he would like, the motions pained and aided by the elegant cane Erik had fashioned for him.

He'd been fairly honest in his previous conversation with Pietro about his mobility and today was what he'd described as a bad day. Really he should be in the chair to avoid causing himself more pain, and rationally he knew that, but there was still a hesitance to accept it, to let go of the re-fashioned treatment and his freedom to walk. Charles was at heart a proud man, and making the transition quickly from walking to the chair wasn't something he had been able to handle. Therefore he'd had a conversation with Hank about the serum and regulate his doses strictly and refashioning it to be less powerful and together they'd come up with a timetable that would allow him a gradual decline in his mobility, which would give him both the time to accept the change in his life, and time to remodel the mansion with better accessibility so that he'd be able to use his study and bedroom without hassle. He thought it was a fair compromise, though not everyone saw it that way. Erik, for instance, looked upon his treatment with distaste, though to Charles' relief said nothing, instead created the cane and left it in the study without a word.

When a particularly agonising streak of pain bolted up his spine, Charles grunted through gritted teeth and pushed himself the final few steps up the corridor to his study and eased himself into his chair, which was behind his desk. He took a few deep breaths, easing himself through the worst of the pain, before he fumbled for a pill bottle in the top drawer of the desk.

"Still medicating away I see."

He glanced up to spot Erik, who was wearing a grim frown and sported a tone of sharp needles, bitter and vindictive. "Relax, my friend, its just something for the pain. You know I'm only on two shots a day now, soon to be one, and Hank is the only one who has access to the cupboard where the medication is kept. I don't even know where the cupboard is, he moves it often."

Erik scowled but said nothing, his anger simmering while he allowed Charles the space to take his tablets. He wasn't oblivious to the suffering his friend experienced and could not yet overrule it with anger as he held some of the blame for its existence. But his reason for coming here would not be held back for long, and so he waited as he watched Charles swallow the tablets and then asked in a hushed, demanding tone.

"Where is he?"

Charles tucked the pill bottle away and looked up at Erik, though he wished he would take a seat. "Sleeping, upstairs. He took a while to settle, as to be expected, but he finally managed to get what I'd presume is his first decent rest in.. well in a long time." He hesitated describing the time period, as although Pietro hadn't confirmed how long he'd actual been there, from the what he had said it seemed to have been a number of years than months. The very thought made him feel dreadful; the idea that they could have left the poor boy to suffer unknowingly without even searching. He shuddered and rubbed a hand over his face.

"When you say a long time, Charles..." Erik began, his voice taking on a threatening edge, a sharpness not unlike the edge of a blade. "...what are you implying?" The trembling of the metal in his desk drawers began anew; pens and letter openers rattling the drawers with enough force to cause the drawer to open and close several times.

"That perhaps Pietro has suffered a terrible ordeal for a time period longer than should ever be accepted. I cannot tell you more than that, old friend. He has barely spoken of it. Now that he's somewhere his mind has accepted as safe, his body has given in to the prolonged exhaustion he is clearly suffering from. Hank is going to do a full medical assessment, but due to the place we found him in we assumed it best to wait until he was lucid and able to confirm what he was comfortable with."

Erik seemed to deflate at his words as the realisation of what his son had come to suffer came over him. Charles could only imagine what his old friend's mind was screaming, but he knew it would be harsh and berating. Something along the lines of failing Pietro and not keeping his word to avoid a repeat of his own childhood. Charles said nothing, knowing that any words of sympathy or wisdom would be met with rage and barbed words. Instead he paced slowly, pleased the medication at least had alleviated the worst of his troubles.

"How could he have been there? Who was running the facility?"

That was what Charles had been afraid of answering. Erik's question that had come to him in barely more than a whisper. He could not lie or abstain from answering, but the truth would bring out the worst in Erik and push him further into the darkness.

"Charles? Who?"

Something on his face must have shown as Erik's voice had gained a fierce spark, one that would be wise not to ignite. But even if he withholded the truth, Pietro would tell him later. Better he handed it over while Erik still had Pietro to worry about and hope that the worry for his son would stay the father's hand.

"Stryker."

There was no sound for a moment, a tense silence filling the space between them for a few dragging seconds before sharp movement made Charles' head turn in time to see his paperweight melt and crumple in on itself. The lighting fixtures rattled in the walls and pens rose from surfaces, spinning furiously as Erik's anger ignited and consumed.

"The Stryker that was allowed to live? That I was stopped from killing in Washington? Do you mean to tell me that if I had ended that flatscan's life when I had meant to that my son, my flesh and blood would not have spent time wasting away in an enforced imprisonment subjected to any many of torture under the thinly veiled label of science!" The rising burn of Erik's anger unleashed an inferno as quiet words became shouts and the walls trembled in fear of the unleashed Magneto. Charles himself staggered to the side as his own cane became a weapon used against him, curling around an ankle in a vice-like grip. It bit into the skin, a harsh pressure on his bone and it took all he had to hiss through gritted teeth.

_"Calm your mind, Erik...."_

Erik's eyes narrowed and his jaw set, ready to unleash a wealth of rage fueled words in the telepath's direction at the familiar phrase until he saw the metal curled around his ankle. Instead Erik seemed to deflate, the anger still there boiling below the surface expression, but subdued by the nauseating wave of guilt the thought of causing harm to Charles caused. As he calmed the metal clutching at Charles' ankle loosened until he was able to slip it from the gap, rotating it a few times to ease the lingering ache.

"Yes the Stryker we allowed to live. It seems that there is more behind the situation than before." Charles stops there, not wanting to go into further detail about Stryker's pleading e-mails for a cure for his son's abilities. Charles had done his best, but he had misjudged Stryker's acceptance of the permenance of his son's ability. Where he had seen a resigned acceptance, what had really occured was far worse. And Pietro had become a victim of this.

"How could I have let this happen? Have I been so blind to let him suffer alone, to think I did not care for his plight over my cause..." Erik mused, his anger turning inwards, piercing him with barbed stings that struck at the very heart of his worst fears. To think his son had been subjected to a horrific suffering as he had was almost too much for Erik to bear.

"It is no use getting angry at yourself, Erik. You will not change the past by berating yourself with what ifs and maybes," Charles murmured calmly, trying to soothe his old friend's rage. The opposite effect took hold however, and Erik turned sharply fixing a cold, pained stare on his friend.

"You think I am not aware of that, Charles? But I am his father and I know better than most the cruelty the hands of humans can deal. I should have been there, protected him from this. I should have torn every last human who even thought to try and harm him apart by the iron in their blood stream. Made an example -"

"And what would that have achieved?" Charles cut across Erik's frenzied rant, rubbing his brow with one hand. "You would have served to see mutants as a greater threat and not bridged the path to peace. Pietro would have been at greater risk, not to mention his twin Wanda, if what Pietro says of her mutation is true!"

"Peace will not protect us, Charles! The humans are cruel and will attempt to placate us while plotting behind our back! We should not bend at the knee to please a lesser species, but demand they step aside and make way for their more evolved kin less they - "

Before Erik could finish his sentence an almighty bang assaulted their ears, followed by the sound of glass from the windows of the floor above raining down. In the tension of the moment, Erik drew himself closer to Charles, lifting the desktop by its screws in front of the window to shield them both instinctually. Charles barely noticed, his ears ringing from the force of the boom, his mind racing through probably causes before he realised. Without saying a word to Erik, who had most likely assumed the same as he had, Charles limped out of the room towards the room Pietro had been given to rest. The walk dragged more than Charles hoped for and became edged with the frustration at not being able to make his body move faster. He could feel Erik at his heels, though the other said nothing, only shadowed his steps to Pietro's room.

As they walked through the open door it became clear that the boy had been caught in a nightmare from the destruction of the room. The long drapes that were meant to block the light were floating eeriely in front of the empty frames. Glass shards littered the floor in front of the windows, glittering dangerously in the pale light of the dawning day. Pillows that had once sat on the bed were discarded across the room, thrown in the midst of flailing limbs. The duvet lay half on the floor, half on the bed, curling around Pietro's legs as if clinging to him in hopes of not suffering the same fate as the pillows. As for the boy himself, Pietro sat up in the bed eyes staring vacantly out at something neither Charles or Erik could see. His body made the minutest of movements, jittering with shivers so fast they were barely perceivable to the two older mutants. Erik took a step towards his son, but then froze as he saw the angry red marks that lined Pietro's arms; clearly clawed attempts to escape his own skin in hope it would end the suffering. It was only a touch from Charles to his shoulder that made Erik move again, stepping tentatively towards his son and crouching at the side of the bed. With a gentleness Charles had not seen in the older mutant in a long time he reached out, laying a hand on Pietro's shoulder.

  
"Wha..." Pietro gasped, turning quickly, a terror-filled expression worn on his face till he saw Erik. When he did, the expression collapsed into one of relief, the boy de-ageing until he looked no older than an infant, body falling limp and curling into Erik. Surprised at the sudden reaction, Erik could do little else but catch his son and hold him close, rocking him gently as he began to shudder with silent sobs. The older mutant grit his teeth, swearing to himself to make Stryker suffer for causing such pain to his boy and then he bent his head, kissing the silver-hair, keeping his lips pressed to Pietro's crown.

Feeling like an intruder, Charles backed out of the room, knowing that father and son would need time to come to terms with being with each other as well as what Pietro had suffered through. Erik glanced at him as he retreated and looked questioningly at him, reaching up a hand to briefly tap his forehead before he held onto Pietro once more. Cautiously Charles' hand went to his temple, his telepathy stretching out to seek the question he knew was being voiced.

_'Where are you going Charles? He may need you too...'_

_Smiling, Charles shook his head. 'I won't be far Erik. I need to go and speak with Hank about the windows.'_ He paused then looked at the pair on the bed warmly. _'As it is, I believe you have it covered. Right now he needs a father. He needs you. I won't be long.'_

With that he left, only stopping in he doorway to glance back over his shoulder at the pair on the bed, Erik bent over Pietro once more, cradling his son to his chest. Pietro's sobs seemed to have calmed but he was still trembling, still fearful of the world he had been left in. The sound of Erik hushing him followed Charles as he left, and the quiet whispered phrase that turned Charles' smile to one of melancholy as he recalled where he'd heard the words before:

  
"Alles ist gut, mein Sohn. Alles ist gut."


End file.
